


Idiots in Love, Part Deux

by little_ogre



Series: Idiots in Love [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alcohol, College AU, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Racism, Roommates, Valentine's Day, omg they were roomates, sustained misunderstanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_ogre/pseuds/little_ogre
Summary: The continued misadventures of College Billy, bad decisions and a crush you can probably see from space. Too bad his roommate Goodnight is absolutely,100% in a loving and committed relationship with his boyfriend Sam. There is no way Billy read that situation wrong.
Relationships: Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks
Series: Idiots in Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540855
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Each Day is Valentine's Day

Billy was hungover, feeling like an idiot,nursing a large cup of coffee and browsing the campus bookshop for a suitable Valentine’s Day card for Jujin. He hadn't told her about the whole crush-on-Vasquez debacle. He was still feeling pretty fragile about it and not able to stand her reaction of pity, exasperation and downright ridicule that was no doubt coming his way. 

The first valentines card Billy had sent, or rather he had made, with chubby fingers sticky with white glue and glitter, way back in playschool, had been forJujin and his mother, and it felt like a good gesture. 

A “ _no hard feelings_ ” kind of gesture. A “ _I guess you kind of outed me but it turned out alright in the end and all in all I’m kind of glad to have it done because it would have been difficult as hell to introduce our mother to my legally wedded husband and our adopted kids 15 years down the line, so it’s all good, put please for the_ love of God don’t _do it again_ ” kind of gesture.

The trick was to find a card which was nice, yet still patently ridiculous, since nobody wanted a sincere valentines card from their brother. He was choosing between a card with a very grave looking cartoon T-Rex holding a heart in its tiny arms, and a card with a big yellow heart saying “HAVE A GAY VALENTINE!” which seemed funny, but also slightly passive aggressive, when his eye caught on a postcard.

It wasn't specifically a Valentine’s Day card, instead it was a watercolour depiction of a hazy moon, full and white over the water of a calm pond. Little wisps of cloud were trailing around the moon, softening it, almost like a veil, and muted green tones around the edge of the water-mirror hinted at lush vegetation. On the back it said “ _La Lune_ , Metropolitan Museum of Art”. It wasn't strictly speaking a valentines card but it was so Goodnight that Billy didn't hesitate for a moment and left the shop with it and the T-Rex valentine in secure possession. 

Delivering it to Goodnight was easy. They all had their cubbyholes in the lobby and leaving for lectures on the 14th Billy quickly looked around to make sure he was alone before sticking the unassuming white envelope into the cubbyhole. He had settled for printing “Will You Be My Valentine?” and nothing else at the back, figuring that was mysterious enough without driving Goody into a frenzy trying to figure out who wrote it. He'd never squashed little handwritten notes into a crush’s locker in high school so he figured he was owed the experience. All day there was a little jitter of excitement and he firmly ignored the little voice that said that if he had any balls at all he'd give it to Goodnight in person and come clean. 

Coming home he immediately spotted the card, Goody was sitting ahlf out the window, idly studying it and smoking languidly. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done not to look at it and just walk over to his bed like normal. Goody seemed in a good mood, humming softly and hanging out the window smoking and tapping his fingers against Billy's card. It was sort of a breathtaking feeling. He had done that, he'd caused that little dreamy smile that hovered just at the edge of Goody's mouth, and it made him want to preen and puff up. 

“You want a chocolate?” Goodnight asked leaning into the room to look at Billy. 

“You got chocolates?” Billy asked, crestfallen,and tried not to feel upstaged by Sam again. As if Billy was not upstaged by Sam's whole existence. 

“They were giving them out for free at the health centre,” Goody shrugged and pushed a small pink box towards Billy. 

“At the health centre?” Billy asked and took one. “Are you feeling ok? Not ill?”

“No, I’m fine, I have a standing appointment with a, hmm, uh, a counsellor,” he shrugged it away looking a little pink so Billy elected to let it slide in favour of stuffing his mouth with chocolate. His mom had always told him he would grow out of his sweet-tooth but so far it hadn't happened. 

“Happy valentines,” Goody said with a smirk and Billy tossed him a chocolate. “Any roses and flowers?”

Billy huffed. “Not that I know of. They could of course have gotten delivered to my other dorm room, with my other roommate.”

“Yeah, that place is probably so full you can't even see the floor,” Goodnight said with a bark of laughter. 

“And they're all from your mother,” Billy returned, pleasantly warmed by his success with the card and Goodnight's attention. 

“Too bad she's wasting her time when all you want is my daddy's dick.”

Heat exploded all over Billy's face. It might be the way Goody's mouth curled around the word _daddy_ , all fat and satisfied and filthy, his crooked smile, or hearing him saying “ _dick_ ” that casually, or too close to what Billy actually wanted for him to control himself, but he blushed so hard he could physically feel his cheeks pulse and his eyes dropped immediately to the hands in his lap.

The silence was deafening. 

He could hear Goodnight moving but he didn't think he could look up even if he was offered good money for it. 

“Aw, shit Billy. Shit, I'm so sorry. I talk too much, everyone says so. I didn't mean to…”

Goody's hand was warm on his shoulder and Billy darted a glance at his face before looking away again. 

“‘s OK,” he managed, cotton mouthed. Goody was just there, close. If Billy leaned any closer he could push his face into his crotch. Mouth at the fly and unzip him, sneak one hand up under his t-shirt and fit his palm to the crest of his hip bone, taste the cotton of his underwear with the musky smell of him underneath. Would Goody say no?

Or would he let him?

“Lets just see if you got any mail though,yeah? Did you check your mail?” Goody said, sounding like he was desperately casting about for a change in topic.

Goody ushered him down to the lobby, dithering about this and that, leaning more heavily on the French than he would normally, a sure sign of how flustered he was. 

Billy was still feeling the smarting sting of his previous stupidity, as well as the whole mess about Vasquez and wondering how to take it back or bring it up again. He didn't want Goody to assume he was carrying some hopeless torch for Vasquez, or that he was his one true love and would never look at anybody else, he just didn't want Goody to think that the boy he had a crush on was _Goodnight_. If he hadn't been so surprised he would have thought of a better lie, like the boy in the coffee shop or the tall guy who checked books at the library or _basically anybody else_ other than somebody that both Billy and Goodnight talked to every day. 

His cubbyhole had an unexpectedly rich yield with a card from his mother, a pizza flier with a two for one offer but Billy's attention was distracted by a chocolate box at the very bottom of the drawer. 

He pulled it out and looked at it. It didn't look like a commercial offer but there wasn't a card or note and he kept turning it over and frowning.

“Did you get one of these?” he asked Goody, waving the box and Goodnight frowned and shook his head. 

“There is no note,” he said, turning the box over again and Goody bent down to pick up a folded piece of paper by his foot.

“Maybe this?” he started and then trailed off. “It's...uh. It's from Vasquez. Cool! That's uh, really cool.Chocolates from your crush on valentines! Wow!” Goody said with a bright smile, handing the note to Billy. It was handwritten in an uneven scrawl: Happy Valentines, enjoy! / Vasquez

Billy stared at it with narrowed eyes. He was 90% certain Vasquez wasn’t the type to buy chocolates for Valentine’s Day for the person he was dating, let alone a friend. He was also 90% sure that if Vas was trying to get into his pants it would be through the means of a bottle of tequila and a frank question rather than what looked like off-brand Mexican Ferrero-Roche.

With Goody heading back to their room Billy clutched his trove to his chest and fished out his phone. Vas picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Chaparrito, how’s it going?”

“Why the fuck do I have chocolates from you?” Billy said, never one for circumspection, and Alejando laughed.

“It's my abuelita, man. She gets them from her work and she sends a ton to my ma. She says it's because when I was in pre-school I had so many _novias_ there weren’t enough to go around. And they were all called Maria.” He sounded nostalgic.

Billy frowned even harder.

“Your grandma has sent me old chocolates because she thinks I’m yourbitch?”

“Dude, that is not what _novia_ means. Also if I had bitches then Emma would be my bitch, and you would be my _side-bitch_. At best.”

“Aren’t I fucking lucky,” Billy groused and Vasquez made an indignant sound.

“Hey cabron, just say thank you, you are so much nicer when you are drunk.I could have given those to at least three girls in my course. I could even have let those go into the bottomless hole that is Josh, but instead I hauled ass all over campus to stick those up your letterbox, so now you had better appreciate your not even expired chocolates.”

“Ugh, I’m so touched. Your grandma chocolates are the most romantic thing to ever happen to me.”

“You’re an ingrate, shorty. Did you get one of those pizza leaflets? Josh and I are using one to go and crash Emma and Mathew’s valentines date, you should bring Goodnight and come.”

“Is Red coming too?”

“Yeah but he’s going as his own date. Says two pizzas and he might not get hungry again after half an hour.”

“All right, if they have their date in the student pizzeria they deserve to have it crashed.”

Goodnight was hanging out of the window and smoking when Billy reached their room, Billy tossed his jacket at him and waved the leaflet.

“Come on, we’re getting pizza and crashing Emma and Mathew’s valentines date.”

“We are?” Goody asked, picking up his jackett.

“Absolutely, I have a two for one pizza offer and nobody I’d rather spend it on. I’ll even pay for your soda.”

“Oh, Billy,” Goodnight rolled his eyes. “You sure do know how to treat a fella.”

“World’s okayest roommate. You can stick it on a mug for my birthday.”

Goodnight’s hand landed on the back of his neck, warm and broad as he leaned over and gently bumped their foreheads together, their noses nearly brushing. Warmth zipped up and down Billy’s whole body. It was like being back at first week when Billy had jumped at the slightest touch, his heart doing an eager little somersault in his chest, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“You, _mon ami_ , are so much more than “okay”,” Goodnight said warmly and released Billy to get his shoes on and Billy stuck behind him all the way down to the street to give himself time to stop blushing and get all of his limbs back under control, especially his hands which wanted to reach out and his mouth which wanted right back to that moment when Goodnight's nose had brushed his, a hot puff of air brushing across his lips and he didn't really trust his body not to engineer a coup against him to make it happen. 

Mathew and Emma had indeed been dumb enough to have their romantic valentines date at the student pizza place and altough Emma’s face promised murder it was a fun evening. Vasquez and Faraday kept trying to trump each other with bad dating stories, Vasquez winning with the story about how he had managed to commit pre-school polygamy with all the girls in his creche and then got into terrible trouble when they all found out and he and his best friend (the Cyrano to his Casanova) had been forced to hide from the tiny mob of pissed-off five-year olds under the pillows in the nap room until his dad came to collect him. It made Billy laugh so much he got the hiccoughs and nearly fell off the bench and Vasquez was forced to reach out and pull him up by the scruff of his neck, putting an arm around him to make sure he wasn’t falling off again, and Billy looked up from laughing so hard he was literally snorting orange juice through his nose and saw Goodnight looking at him with a brittle smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he remembered he was supposed to be in love with Vasquez and perhaps not laugh so hard at his romantic failings.

“I’ll see you Thursday,” he called out to Vasquez when the groups separated, on Thursdays they both had a midday gap in lectures that they usually used for going to the gym.

“It’s a date, short stack,” Vas responded cheerfully and blew him a kiss before putting an arm around Josh to support him around an icy patch on the road.

“A date uh?” Goodnight said, smiling as they walked home and Billy looked at his feet and shrugged. He was really going to have to find a way to get himself out of this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Billy's defense I think he studies engineering so a lot of his brain capacity is probably busy processing, like, vectors and shit.
> 
> Shoutout to Poemsingreenink who shamed me into putting this together from the scattered pieces on tumblr where they have been kicking around for ages and post them properly.


	2. Matchmaking hernia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now Goodnight was matchmaking with the maniacal zeal of a violin player at a third rate Italian restaurant working late on Valentine’s day.

If Billy had a time machine he would go back in time and kick himself in the head for saying he had a crush on Vasquez. Then, he would go back even further in time to kick himself in the head for _not_ having a crush on Vasquez, because really, Vas is a _dreamboat_.

But this is besides the point. The point is that Billy is unfortunately stuck with his crush on Goodnight, and Goodnight seemed to have lost his everloving mind since Billy told him about his crush.

(On Vasquez. Which he didn’t _have_.)

And now Goodnight was matchmaking with the maniacal zeal of a violin player at a third rate Italian restaurant working late on Valentine’s day. 

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it, throwing them together every chance he got. He’d elbow his way to sit down next to Vas and then as soon as he saw Billy hollered “I saved you a seat!” and disappeared like a red streak, leaving Billy to sit awkwardly sandwiched between Vasquez and whatever girl he was hitting on at the moment.Goodnight would make study dates and then clumsily offer a transparent excuse when only the two of them showed up and then pretend that he had to study in a different section of the library. He lures Billy down to the coffee shop and just “stumble” on Vasquez, before he remembers he had urgent business on the other side of campus. Goody borrowed books of Vasquez and then asked Billy to return them. As the final straw, Goody had asked Billy to come with him to the student cinema club on his extra ticket and on the evening tragically something “came up” very suddenly and Billy found himself outside the auditorium looking up at a gangly and well known figure. There was a cheery text from Goodnight: I can’t go but oh, hey I gave the other ticket to Vasquez, so I guess have a nice evening?

Billy is going to have to murder him.

Billy spent an excruciating two hours watching a French romantic comedy about cannibalism and playing the cello in a dystopian future. He might love Goody but he’ll never get his taste in movies.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re dating?” Vas asked him on the way home and Billy pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. 

“I might have fucked up,” he conceded and Vas nodded in response.

“I figured it might have been something like that.” he said sagely. “Do you think you could unfuck it please? It’s just that at some point I’d like to get laid and you know, I’m not exactly feeling the chemistry here.”

(“Excuse you, we have _plenty_ of chemistry!” Billy had said, stung. Vasquez looked down at him, and then slowly raised his eyebrows.

“Do you _want_ to date me?” he asked, supremely unimpressed and Billy took him in,the curly brown hair, the dimples, the smile, and the soft accent and really, Billy might have been kicked in the head once too many because he doesn’t. He wants some scrawny fuck with dishwater hair who thinks two hours of dystopian French cannibalism is a good time.)

Billy spent a lot of time the next couple of weeks thinking about how to clear up this stupid mess, before Goody strained something and gave himself match-making hernia. Maybe he could have a pretend heart to heart with Goodnight, and he was still carefully staging this scenario in his head and deciding on the exact phrasing when one Friday he opened the door to their dorm only to find Goody and Sam in bed. 

OK, so he doesn’t really get an eyeful of anything, thank God, clothes are still on and hands are not in any too bad places but it still felt too private, too intimate. Sam was sitting on the bed, he was leant up against the wall with his arm around Goodnight, who was practically curled in his lap, head resting against his shoulder. They both startled when Billy opened the door, Goodnight getting up quickly turning away to face the windows. He’s not sure but it looks like Goody was wiping his hands across his face repeatedly.

“Just uh, put a sock on the door or something,” Billy muttered, and turned right back around to sit in the library and stare at cat videos for an hour, trying not to grind his teeth. 

There was nothing to be upset about. He had known about Sam and Goodnight but he'd also forgotten.

It was easy to forget with Goody's sly smile and gratifying attention. Sam had sort of become theoretical knowledge the moment Goody slipped his hand into his, their socked feet resting on each other, heads together on the same pillow. Billy realised to his horror that even in spite of knowing about Sam, he had still _stupidly_ started to believe that Goodnight might be into him, that if Billy ever managed to get his words in order and clear up that idiotic misunderstanding about Vasquez and ask Goody out he _might_ say yes. He was going to hit something so hard the next time he’s at the gym for being so fucking stupid. 

Several cat videos later and in a foul mood he trudged back to the dorm, knocking before he opened the door. 

“C’mon in,” Goody hollered and Billy cautiously stuck his head in.Goody was still on the bed, this time lying flat with his hands neatly crossed on his chest, Sam’s bag was on the floor, half unpacked and the shower was running in the bathroom. 

“Sorry about that,” Goody said apologetically, raising his head from the pillow, his eyes suspiciously red and his face blotchy. 

“Are you okay?” Billy asked, temporarily forgetting to be mad, seeing Goody all laid out flat. 

“Yeah, sure I'm fine,” Goody said rubbing his face, and scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I just…” he sighed.” You know how Sam can be, he’ll just give it to you straight. It can get a bit overwhelming, you know?”

Billy opened his mouth and closed it again. The words were echoing through his mind, jealousy and want exploding like twin solar flares in his chest. How could he _ever_ have been so stupid to think he had a chance here?

“Yeah, well maybe you can learn to keep it between you and Sam?” he heard himself say, frustration making his words short. Goody cut his eyes to him for a second and then looked away, hands starting to pluck for a cigarette

“Yeah, uh sure, of course,” he said, and fiddled with the carton, flipping the lid open and closed. 

“So next time Sam decides to “ _give it to you”_ maybe you could give me a heads up or something?” The black tar-like jealousy made his tone harsh and Goody twitched a little but nodded guiltily. 

Billy felt like an elephant, every movement unnaturally loud, closing cupboards and putting away his stuff unnecessary force until Sam came out of the shower, thankfully blessedly clothed, even if his feet were bare. 

“Are you ready?” he asked Goody. 

“Yeah, in a minute,” Goodnight answered,holding up his cigarette, waving towards the window. He kept glancing between Sam and Billy, reminiscent of a dog which could sense it was in trouble, without any idea of what it had done wrong. It was odd that he was the one discomfited because now that Billy thinks about it Sam is definitely being somewhat short, and he has no idea what that is about at all.

While Goody smoked, Sam rifled through his clothes and Billy watched him from his bed with jealousy so sharp in his chest it felt like acid reflux. 

It wasn't, he realised not actually jealousy. It’s something else, something more…complicated.

If Sam made Goody happy then Billy was all for it. He recognised that if kissing Sam was what Goody wanted, he should have it. If Sam was good to him and made him feel good, making Goody's back arch, throwing his head back and gasping, choking out air and praise, toes curling, hands opening and closing like cats carding, then Billy wanted that for him. He was _envious_ of Sam. He wanted it _too_ , not instead. It was a curious little realisation, and didn’t actually help with his foul mood, or the way his jaw couldn’t seem to unclench, or how he wanted to snarl at them both like a hurt animal. The memory of Goody shyly and carefully reaching out to hold his hand kept intruding, that little voice kept pointing out that Goody was the one to call him, to come running with him, who kept instigating touching like he couldn't help himself. 

“Here, there you go.” Sam said, emerging from one of the drawers and throwing a t-shirt at Goody. “Put that on.”

“Ah no, Sam, really?” Goody eyed the item dispiritedly and Sam nodded. 

“Oh yes.”

And Goody sighed and peeled out of his t-shirt and put on the one Sam had thrown at him. Billy could see why he doesn't wear it that often, it was too small and the colour was a faded washed-out blue but oh. _Oh_ , it brought out the light blue of Goody's eyes and fitted tight around his sinewy arms and narrow hips,it even made his shoulders look a little broader. He looked delectable. He looked like a _twink_. 

Billy immediately became very occupied with his phone because he if he stared at Goody for much longer he'd actually start drooling

“Uh, so we’re heading out,” Goody said and Billy was so used to him extending a friendly invitation to come along that it actually surprised him when one wasn’t forthcoming. Sam and Goody were going out alone. And Goody looked good enough to eat. 

Goody kept glancing between him and Sam awkwardly, clearly noticing the lack of invitation himself, not knowing how to smooth out the situation. 

After they had clattered through the door Billy felt jittery and shaky, anxiety prickling up and down his spine, and in an effort to quell it he went for a short run. He sped past the campus, focused on making himself run as fast as he could, feet flying almost like an explosion every time he hit the ground. It felt for a moment like he could outrun his problems, the perpetual feeling of strangeness, this unexpected snag in the road that just added more fucking otherness to him.

Coming back he took advantage of the empty dorm room to pleasure himself in the shower, hard and fast, almost viciously thinking of nothing, his mind aggressively blank and stood under shower spray subdued and panting afterwards, watching the water and milky residue swirl around his feet. 

In spite of the run and the post-orgasm lassitude he still felt antsy, the room too empty and the vivid idea of Sam and Goodnight making busy felt haunting. He could go to the library but he felt too restless to study and it was a Saturday night anyway. Under normal circumstances he and Goody would be out playing pool and drinking dark beer, or there would be food and movies in the house Emma, Josh and Vasquez shared. For all that Billy had felt lonely he hadn't been alone in a long time. 

The silence in the room seemed to swell and grow and suddenly it was making Billy annoyed. It’s Saturday night, why should he sit and stare at the wall? 

It wasn't until he came down to the student bar and saw the gigantic rainbow banner that he hesitated. He remembered Goodnight saying something about how the Gay-Straight alliance arranged bi-monthly student pubs but he hadn't realised it would be one on tonight. Billy hadn't been to the GSA yet, he’d walked past the door a couple of times and once even turned the handle but he'd never managed to go. Goody went every now and then and came back with leaflets and invitations for Billy to come to board game night or sex workshops (called “fuckshops” and just the leaflet made Billy blush and spend half an hour in the bathroom imagining going to one of them with Goody, and being paired up by an enthusiastic workshop teacher and just one thing leading to another…) He always declined. Just because he was gay didnt mean he’d have to do any of _that_.

When Billy was fourteen he’d been cornered in the changing room after PE by one of the guys on the football team, who had for one moment touched his chin with a hand both rough and soft and said “If you’d do it for me, I’ll do it for you?” with a crude and unmistakable gesture and Billy had nailed his eyes to the floor and sidled away like a crab, holding on the strap of his backpack as if it were a life line. His legs felt like water, trying to walk down the corridor and look normal. How could he know? _How could he know?_ Could anyone know just by looking at him? A week later he’d been standing in line at the cafeteria when a hard shove from behind made him fall over and he had scrambled to his feel to see the back of the same guy walking away, the message silent but unmistakable. 

And now the otherwise normal student pub seemed surrounded by a force field, an invisible barrier that once Billy crossed would proclaim him GAY to everyone in there, not just something that was between him and Goodnight but something Billy was on his own, independently. Something Billy would still be once he’d gotten over this particular crush. 

But then again there is nothing for it. Billy knows, intellectually, that he won’t be in love with Goodnight for the rest of his life, that he’ll have partners and hook-ups and boyfriends and if he’s going to be gay he has to get himself out there and acutally start being gay. However the fear wound about his legs like an anxious cat. Billy had spent so long trying to hide it, and bury it, that the thought of letting people know, deliberately, feels like those dreams where he’d walk into an exam without any pants on, only a 1000 times more exposed.

He was saved from standing there indefinitely by two young women coming out of the bar, one of them holding the door for him, raising her eyebrows and there was nothing for it but to go through.

Billy wasn’t quite sure what he had expected, possibly strobing lights reflecting off undulating bodies, hard muscles and glitter, not tables set out in neat rows and Horne, the great hulking Religious Studies professor to come shambling towards him. Horne looked like a bear and was president over the College Egalitarian Hiking Club. He was also one of the most embarrassingly religious people Billy had ever met. 

Before Christmas Goody had dragged Billy to his “non-denominational Solstice service”, one of the strangest fucking experiences of Billy’s life, where Horne had started with saying that while he was obviously Christian, anyone else wer welcome to dedicate this spiritual moment to any deity they felt they were connected to, and then had rambled a lot about “As how the lengthening days light triumphs over dark so may peace triumph over war etc.” before leading them all in a round of “ _Here comes the Sun_.” Billy had wanted to die of second hand embarrassment, but he had to admit that when Horne came in to do a guest lecture in his Anthropology course he was pretty cool. He was unconventional and soft spoken in a way which was belied both by his build and his academic writing style, which according to some were like being kicked in the head. His feud with Marcel and Jean Pigéon was legendary.

“Rocks, isn’t it?” Horne said in his high reedy voice. “Welcome in,and come sit here, it's Providence that you came just now, we were one person short and just about to start and it’s so depressing to have an empty spot. I was going to fill in but I imagine everyone here already knows me pretty well. Ha ha ha.”

And then he quickly deposited Billy in a chair and lumbered off towards the bar, leaving Billy with the sinking feeling of just having agreed to _speed date_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this AU is inspired by Alison Bechdel's comics about coming out as a lesbian in college in the 80s, and Horne's midwinter solstice ceremony is straight up snagged from one of the Dykes to Watch Out For comic strips.
> 
> The film Goody sends Billy and Vas to see is Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Delicatessen, which is indeed a french dystopian rom-com about cannibalism and playing the cello. Mime and clowning feature heavily.


	3. Is this a good decision I see before me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for use and discussion of the phrase "No fats, no femmes, no Asians" and racism in queer dating.

“Welcome everybody! This is our second GSA student pub for the year and we are really excited. Last year, during orientation one of the things that kept coming up was that our members want help in building queer relationships and networks, so we are taking the first step today and have arranged Speed dating for Friends!”

Billy wanted to groan, he didn’t want to speed date for friends, he barely wants to speed date for the chance of a hookup, and yet here he was, trapped.

“Your goal for tonight,” Horne continued, “is to make a connection with a stranger. And if somebody sits down opposite you that is not a person you’d think you’d have something in common with, just give them a chance and see where it leads you.” 

Horne smiled shyly at the room, giving the impression of a man who was uneasy in front of a crowd, in spite of being a tenured professor.

A bell clanged and a girl with bangs and bottle red hair sat down opposite Billy and started talking about Care Bears.

Half an hour later Billy’s head was aching and he wanst even sure of being gay anymore. These people were just _fucking weird_. One person Billy couldnt even tell the gender of said they were a _“genderqueer Oxford boy dyke”_ and Billy could sort of puzzle out four of those words individually, but he had no idea where and how the _Oxford_ fit into anything, or which of the boy or the dyke had a bearing on what kind of persons they would be interested in? Was it a _boy_ dyke or a boy _dyke_? And how were you a boy dyke anyway, wasn’t the whole point of being a lesbian that they were not boys?

One woman told him that saying “straight” as in the fucking _direction_ , is upholding the “heterosexual hegemony” and that he should always say “gayly forward” instead and that he should write to his congress representative to petition to have it changed on GPS voices to end directional oppression , which was...was just, what?

Next was this guy who looked Billy over for a second before he got his out his phone and said, without even looking up: “Sorry, not my type” as he swiped left and left and left, which was just fucking rude, especially since they were ostensibly here to “speed date for friends”. Like Billy wasn’t even his type enough to talk to for a whole minute. Unfortunately he can’t think of anything cutting to say before the bell chimes and they were all switching anyway (something he now, thanks to Goodnight, knows is called _esprit de escalier_ ) and Billy sat down in front of a handsome, dark haired guy with a t-shirt that not only stretched nicely over his chest, but also featured the logo of Billy’s gym.

The guys’s name was Bartholomew, which was a fucking stupid name, but Billy has become much more lenient on stupid names since he met Goodnight, and he’s funny. They talked about the gym, about college and films and when the bell rang Bart waved to the person behind to pass by their table so they could continue talking.

“ _You_ are the hottest guy I’ve met this evening,” he smiled and if Billy wasn’t not so taken with the experience of having a guy (!) say he’s hot (!!) to his face(!!!) he would describe that smile as oily. “I’m not letting you go now, some of these other people are psychos.”

“The Care Bear girl?” Billy asked in sympathy and Bart laughed. 

“Yes! And some guy who wont stop talking about fucking squirrels.”

“Is that as in, uh, “goddamn-fucking”, squirrels or as in _fucking squirrels_?” 

Bart leaned over the table and looked into Billy’s eyes with earnest desperation, his eyes dark and gleaming.

“ _I don’t know_ ,” he whispered urgently and Billy broke out in a startled laugh. When the bell rings he was still laughing and Bart got out his phone.

“Could I get your number? I’d better move on before the mountain man gets me for ruining the spirit or whatever.” 

Billy hesitated for a second before thinking _oh, what the hell._ It felt like a small victory when his phone vibrates with the incoming text. Bart stood next to the table, popping his hip against the edge and leaning down on one arm to smile at Billy. He was a little taller, rangy and whipcord, with the beginnings of a receding hairline and Billy thinks he might be a little into that.

“You’re cute,” he smiled, looking Billy up and down, “And pretty built too. I’m normally a strictly “no fats, no femmes, no Asians” type of guy you know? But for you I might make an exception.” Bart winked and smiled like a wolf, all teeth before he sauntered off to the next table, hand raised in nonchalante goodbye.

Billy’s first feeling was one of insulted astonishment because who the fuck just says something like that like its _normal_? And the way he had said it, like it _was_ completely normal, something Billy should know about, have heard of, an established fucking phrase, a good-natured joke. He was alien enough to the gay world that there is a fucking phrase for how much they dont like guys like him.

And Billy had given him his number. He might call. Jesus Christ, the entitled asshole might call and Billy had no idea what to say to him, other than to ask him to fuck all the way off.

He was still working on scraping his jaw off the floor when Goodnight sat down opposite him. He looked good,in his element, there was a flush to his cheeks and his eyes were sparkling and it was lucky that t-shirt was normally delegated to the bottom of his closet because if he wore it more often it was likely Billy would just fail right out of college in pure distraction. He was all that yet all Billy can feel in that moment is overwhelming relief at a familiar face. Someone who can help him make sense of what the fuck just happened.

(Billy knows what the hell happened, but just like when he was twelve and a car pulled up next to his bike and the driver yelled “Go back to your own country” at him and then drove off, some part of him refuses to accept that this has actually happened and is trying to reconstruct the narrative into something else,)

“You have got to help me, I just gave my number to a complete asshole,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth and Goody blinked at him.

“Of course..anything you want” he says, looking puzzled at Billy and then down at the table. Without even knowing he’s done it Billy’s both hands had grabbed Goody’s where it was resting on the table, one hand gripping onto his fingers and palm and the other curled around his wrist, in desperate urgency. Embarrassed Billy let go of one hand but experimentally held on with the other and tried not to flush with pleasure when Goody adjusted his grip to hold on more securely.

“Is “no fats, no femmes no Asians” even a thing?” Billy asked, voice rising and watched Goody’s face twist into that grimace of discomfort liberal white people get when confronted with how racism affects people who are not them.

“I’m sorry,” Goodnight said, shaking his head “I think..., but yeah,it's a, uh, a thing.”

“ _Right_ ,” and wow, if Billy didn’t want to make kisses on Goodnight’s stupid face so bad he would opt out of this gay thing before it even started.” _Why_ is it a thing?”

“I’m sorry that had to be the first thing out of the gate,”Goodnight answered, sounding both pissed off and uncomfortable. “I mean there is a lot to unpack, with racism and internalised homophobia in the gay community, I might not be the best person…I... ” he trailed off. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I thought you were out with Sam.”

“Oh he’s here, this was all Sam’s idea, the bastard. He thinks I’m too solitary here and I need to get out more. We were quite involved in the GSA at home so...I mean, he means well you know?” Goody’s free hand sketched a gesture through the air that could mean quite a lot of things.

“I’ve never been before. I’m not sure I like it.”

“Yeah, you mentioned an asshole?” Goodnight said wryly, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile and Billy groaned. Goodnight had started growing a beard since Christmas and it should by all rights look stupid but it also framed his mouth so everytime Billy looked at him his gaze got stuck on the plump swell of Goody’s lower lip and his charmingly crooked teeth. It was deeply unfair.

Billy was halfway through relating the incident when he realised that he is loud, he has his hands out and he has forgotten about half the room. 

In high school, after the incident in the gym showers Billy hadn’t spoken in school for a week. He’d learned to be quiet, to not really talk to anybody besides Jujin. It had been a joke amongst the guys at the gym that with Billy you either picked up sign language or telepathy, because it wasn’t like he was going to talk. It was as if he had decided that as long as he was quiet he could mask it, could hide himself away under a gruff exterior, under a stereotype of stoicism and coldness. But a year at college had chipped away at the facade and the realisation that without even knowing how it had happened he is out of his shell hit like a blow to the head. He talks in class and with friends, makes small talk in the coffee shop and if you ask Red or Vas or anyone to describe him they were more likely to say that “loud opinionated bastard” rather than that “Asian kid who doesn’t talk”. It is a good feeling. His hair is long enough now that he can pull it back into a bun on the top of his head. People sometimes call him _ma’m_ in stores and his Halmi has asked if he wanted money for a haircut, but the point is that he had let his hair grow without worrying what it might say about him, that people might look at him and think “gay”.

“And now he has your phone number?”Goodnight asked, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline in consternation.

“Yeah,” Billy said grimly.

“I have a revolutionary idea, and that is that you block his number, and if he insists on calling I’ll answer instead and say he’s called, um, like the number service, or Fats Gay Bakery in Louisiana. Or the morgue!”

Billy smiles. “Pansy’s Dancing school.”

“Miss Pansy speakin’” Goody said, exaggerating his southern accent. “Oh sugar, why don’ you come on down and give us a whirl? We are just full up of fat Asian drag queens, an’ the girls are all _dyin’_ to see you.”

“You realise that the second you actually do that it will be my Mom on the phone, right? And then she’ll _really_ think I’m living it up.”

“She’ll send you another bottle of pharmacy lube. Does the army surplus store sell lube? Like a no brand gallon of lube. We could lay out a rubber mat, pour it out and have a very strange fetish party in our dorm.”

“Make a slide in the corridor. And a human bowling alley.” 

Goody let out a high pitched, undignified giggle. “Really build some queer networks.”

When the bell rang again Billy was still laughing almost too hard to hear it and he doesn’t think he makes too good an impression on anybody else, red-faced and giggling and as soon as the bell rang for the final time he looked around for Goody and Sam.

They were at a table in the back wall, Sam sitting down with a beer and Goodnight standing up and talking with a tall guy, the last person in his dating run. Billy had met him earlier in the evening, he was part of the Egalitarian Rambler’s club and spoke very glowingly of Horne. Coming closer something about Goodnight looked eerily familiar to Billy, something in his posture, the soft smile and the way he tilts his head just so.

He was flirting, and the reason Billy can tell it is flirting is because Goody does the same to him.

He recognised that soft curve of Goody’s body, and the way he’s looking up through his lashes, recognized it from nights and nights in their room, from how Goodnight looked at _him_ , his hands dancing and fluttering around Billy, leaning his chin on the back of his knuckles and just looking at Billy like he is the most interesting, compelling, thing in the universe, even if he’s just talking about going down to the corner store for milk. He’d held Billy’s hand the whole time at the table without even questioning it and Billy had just ignored all these things because it was much safer to believe that Goodnight was unavailable.

And Sam is sitting right next to him, just there, poking at his phone and looking content, but Sam must recognise it too. Must have seen Goodnight and Billy and known. Billy was pretty sure nobody knew about his crush on Goody, not because he's an expert at hiding it, but because nobody would be looking, or recognise what they were seeing. But Sam would know. Sam would recognise that Goodnight was having...having an an, an… _emotional affair_ with Billy right in front of his very eyes, and Billy suddenly felt sick to his stomach, with a spinning sense of nausea over what he's done.

Sam, who’s been nothing but kind to him, who befriended Billy with good humour and ease in spite of Billy’s initial spiky attitude. While Billy looked on Goodnight had given the tall guy a final slinky smile and sat down next to Sam, arm easily around his shoulder and their heads tight together to look at whatever Sam was doing on his phone, stealing a sip from his beer without even looking up. The swirling anxiety rose up from Billy’s gut and before he knew it he had set course for the bathroom, confused emotions thumbling round and round inside him like a spinning drum.

Grace had raised Billy to be fastidious, and under normal circumstances he would rather be dead than on the floor of a public bathroom,but since he felt like he would rather be dead than anywhere at all right now, germs and sticky floors seemed the least of his worries. The tiles are cool and the sound of the bar lessened, and Billy pulled his knees up to lean his forehead against them and tried to even out his breathing and not vomit. He felt terrible, like food poisoning and lying to his mom all rolled up into one clawing, cold-sweat emotion that held his stomach in a terrible grip. 

“You all right there?” Billy looked up at Sam, nodded,and then he had to look away again when another roiling wave of nausea hit. Being all right was most definitely a lie.

“Yeah sure you're all right,” Sam said and reached down to hoist Billy up. “That's why you're sitting on the floor in the toilets, because you are so all right. C’mon, up you go.”

Billy allowed Sam to hustle him to the sinks and obediently washed his face and hands,before Sam grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to their table like a lost puppy.

“Billy, Sam, I'm just going to the bar,you want a beer?”

“I want a beer,” Sam said, “and he’ll have a ginger ale or a coke.”

“Fuck do I care?” Sam said when Billy gives him an indignant stare. “Get a beer, be sick in the bathroom, go ahead. So Goody said you met some asshole?” he continued, sitting down next to Billy. 

Billy told him all about it, and Sam listened and nodded. 

“Where do I even go if I'm not welcome here?” Billy finished, finally out of steam. Talking it through he’s realised how much it bothered him, yeah he was out to his parents but they had yet to see any of that in practice, and he still hasnt said anything to the rest of his family, he hadn't told his grandma or his cousins, and he had sort of thought that was what the gay community was for, to support you if things got hairy with your own family but if he was as unwelcome there as he might be at home, then what? 

“I'm going to have to be in it right?” he asked Sam. “I mean, I thought I could be gay without being _gay_ , you know? If.. if it was just...who I liked, I could just skip the..the.. demonstrations and limp wrists and being covered in glitter and walking like a girl but that's not how it works? And if I want to change it I have to get in there and be a part of it, right?” 

“It does sound like you’d have a better chance than when doing nothing?” Sam admitted mildly.

“What’s going on?” Good sat down with them, carefully handing Billy a glass of ginger ale and Sam a bottle.

“Billy is solving systemic racisim in queer spaces by comitting to being a full time gay,” Sam said and Goody nods apreciatively.

“Mazel tov!” He raised his bottle and his smile made Billy’s ears hot and he can't help glancing selfonciously at Sam because this must look so weird and then he froze like a deer in headlights when he spotted Bart on the other side of the bar. 

“Sam! Goody! Asshole o’clock!” he all but squeaked in panic and Sam immediately slapped Goody's shoulder when he craned his head to look. 

“Don't fucking look Goody!” he snapped, while managing to keep his face entirely relaxed. “Is he coming over?” he said to Billy who threw a glance over at the bar

“Not yet but he looks like he might ,” Billy said miserably. It's not that he's afraid of telling the bastard to fuck off, it's just that he'd rather not. He also felt a hot surge of shame for giving out his number to the first guy who was even remotely nice to him.

“Ok” says Sam, clearly thinking very hard and gaze still glued to the table. “Billy, get in closer to Goodnight, and Goody put your arm around him.”

Both Goodnight and Billy froze and then Goody muttered something that sounded like _aw what the hell_ , and gave Sam a dark glare and swung his arm around Billy's shoulders pulling him in close. It wasn't too weird, to be honest they were closer than this on most days, however on most days they were not in front of Goody’s fucking _boyfriend._ Being this close actually made Billy relax, made him braver than he usually would be, he was always so busy with holding himself back whenever Goody touched him, but this time actually dared to snuggle closer, and lean his forehead against Goody’s temple with something of a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” he muttered against Goody's throat and can feel Goody’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. 

“Any...anytime,” Goody replied somewhat unsteadily and shuffled closer, moulding himself against Goody’s side. It was heavenly. Goody smelled good, and familiar and it feels like Billy's skin is buzzing with pleasure. For once he doesn’t give a crap about what sort of weird thing Sam and Goody have going on, maybe it’s an open relationship? In any case Goody's own damn boyfriend is right there so he can show some shame for once if he's worried about it. Billy is taking a break from worrying right now.

“Is he still looking?” he asked Sam who very unobtrusively glanced towards the bar.

“Guy with the forehead, right?”

Billy nodded.

“Yeah he’s still looking,” Sam said, frowning, “You two could be stuck like this for the rest of the evening.” the last he said with a slightly pointed emphasis and Billy could feel Goody shrug minutely.

“I’ve definitely been stuck in worse places,” he said warmly and Billy did his best not to blush and settled in more comfortably.

“For sure you have, Goodnight.”Sam said, grinning like a shark. “Has ever he told you the time he got stuck for three hours in his hookups basement without pants? Goody made an indignant noise next to him, sounding like a wet cat.

“Sam! For the last time, we were _not_ hooking up! I was _tutoring_ him. In French.The lack of pants was…. incidental.Circumstantial evidence at best.”

“The lack of pants might be circumstantial evidence but as such it's highly incriminating,” Sam said, winking at Billy while Goody continues to sputter.

“So Goodnight had the worst crush on this complete boneheaded football guy-”

“He was not boneheaded Sam, he was _dyslexic_ -”

“And they were in the basement fooling around and Goody here lost his pants because in his little southern heart he’s a slut-”

“Faint heart never fucked a bobcat Sam, _not_ that we were. We were _conjugating french verbs_ and I spilled soda! Soda! Billy, don’t listen to him, I’m a paragon of virtue,unblemished as the driven snow, anyway, I spilled soda on my trousers and Stephen had gone upstairs to get me a pair to borrow when a friend of his came around -”

“His girlfriend, Goodnight! His _girlfriend_ came around, so of course he had to pretend there was absolutely nobody in his basement and he thought that the best way to get you out safely was to distract her upstairs and you then you could sneak out, except for the fact that Goody here had no pants on and were stuck down there.”

“He was looking out for me, that's all. Preserving my dignity, however his family came home just after that and he had to go to dinner because they were very strict about that sort of thing, Billy and it wasn’t like I could go through his house pantsless so…”

The story was long and meandering but culminated in Sam idling his car like a getaway driver for Goody as he wriggled out of the tiny basement window like a skinny red-faced eel in only his underwear, having to make an undignified scramble across the backyard before he could dive headfirst into Sam’s car.

Billy decided that he likes Sam’s laugh, which makes his front teeth stick out just enough to make his handsome face just the slightest bit dorky.Billy could imagine him twenty years from now happily making dad jokes and singing along to oldies on the radio. Next to Billy Goodnight rolled his eyes excessively and sucked his teeth in an effort to hide his smile.

A while later Goodnight is more or less propped up against Billy, warm and boneless and slightly hicchoughy, jumping thoughtlessly between Louisiana French and English, his hand tangled in Billy’s hair, pulling slightly every now and it felt good in a way Billy had to try really hard not to think about in public. Bouge had dripped off pretty early on, after Goodnight had made a show of nosing affectionately along Billy's hairline and over his ear, but Billy felt pretty unrepentant about not telling Goodnight or Sam about it. 

“Maybe we should get going?” Sam said with a meaningful look at Goody who was rosy and droopy and thoroughly charming and Billy nodded. He's been on ginger ale rations the whole evening apart from a few sips from Goodnight's bottle and was pretty much sober. 

In the cold night air Goody sobers up a little and he and Sam talk about who they had met and if anything interesting had come up. 

“I love a good old SGA meeting,” Goody said happily. “Makes me feel nostalgic for high school. The only thing that could make it perfect was if the abstinence society had the room opposite, do you remember that Sam? Our best recruitment pool.”

“Were you involved in your GSA in high school?” Billy asked, a little wistfully (he can vividly remember walking miles in roundabout ways to avoid the corridor where the information leaflet sat, just in case anybody could see him next the rainbow flag and make the obvious connection. Being subconsciously closeted had sucked balls). 

“Involved?” Goody scoffed, “we started the GSA in our school.” He gazed out in front of him as if looking out over conquered realms, his face fond and nostalgic. “ _I_ was gay, _Sam_ was straight, it was a fated alliance!” Goody said, expansively and threw an arm around Sam’s shoulder, trying to pull him down to kiss his cheek. They weren't much for PDAs and Billy could tell it is more for the sake of being obnoxious than anything else. 

It made Billy laugh. “So you got together after high school then?” 

“What?” Goody said so abruptly that it makes Billy falter a little, unsure where he had lost the thread. 

“Um,you said Sam was the straight part, so obviously he’d, uh, let go of that when you started dating?”

Both Goody and Sam froze, staring at him. It ought to look funny, the two of them standing stock still in the freezing night and staring, Goody halfway trying to climb up on Sam, one leg thrown over his waist and arms locked around his shoulder in an attempt to reach his face. 

“We _what_?” Sam said, sounding stunned. 

Goody was hastily scrabbling to let go of Sam, who was just as quick in letting go of his coat and scarf and they stumbled apart, still staring at Billy. 

“You thought we were together?” Goody asked, waving his hand between Sam and himself. 

“Yeah?” It still seems to Billy like no big deal, he can’t understand why they are acting so weird.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Goody said and Sam turned away with a hand over his face, making an odd high pitched noise. 

“We’re not together. Really _really_ not!”

“You're not? I thought you were dating?”

“No we’re just best friends!” Goody said frantically.” I mean, of course there is nothing _just_ about being friends, and not to demean the sacred bond of friendship, and Sam is the other half of my soul (“I’m _really_ not,” Sam cut in) but I, we, we’re not dating. At all.”

“Ok, so, uh you just have sex?” Billy asked, bewildered.

Goody’s mouth dropped open in a scandalised “O” in horror and Sam was still turned away, shoulders heaving with laughter.

“No! Of course not, I could _never_ with Sam! That would be…” he made an aborted gesture indicating the complete impossibility of him and Sam, which Billy thinks was pretty damn insulting given that he’d seen it with his own two eyes. 

“But you go on cute dates! You know each other’s coffee orders. You have a picture in an Our First Date frame!” 

This was true, it sat on Goodnights cork board, and Billy hadn't noticed it until Goody had moved it to pin the secret valentines card. It’s a fucking adorable photo from the top of the Empire State Building with a windswept baby Goody in a striped t-shirt holding hands with, and beaming at, an equally baby faced Sam in truly regrettable glasses.Goody opened his mouth but Billy was on a roll, and also quite indignant that they would try to keep this from him.

“You sleep in the same bed! You make out! I don’t know why you’d think I wouldn't be cool with it.”

Both Sam and Goody looked somewhat sheepish, and Goodnight kept shaking his head.

“We have been best friends since high school but we’re really not together. I, I _might_ give Sam ….a...a….a” Goody fumbled for words, “a _chaste peck_ every now and then, but I’d hardly go so far as making out more...ah..uh…”

“More like you have a chronic allergy to personal space?” Sam supplied smoothly and Goody nodded eagerly and when realised what Sam had said he glared at him

“Sam!” he spits indignantly.

“No really?”Sam asked Billy affably,, “How long had you known each other before he was basically picking wax out of your ears?”

And well, put it like that. Billy could remember their first introduction lecture where Goody had casually put a hand on the back of Billy’s chair and lent into his personal space like it was nothing, while Billy sat there stiff as a rod and tried to not act like a spooked cat. And then finally, finally Billy felt like a lightbulb went off, throwing everything in blinding, illuminating light.

“So, you, you are not together?” he asked and Goody stared back at him, mouth half open and his eyes enormous in the dark, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “I mean no, no we’re not together.”

“And, uh, and you’re not seeing anyone?” Billy stuttered, his heart beating like a steam engine and Goody looked at him, almost dazed.

“No, no I’m not, I’m not seeing anyone,” he said, eyes glued to Billys.

“Oh, okay,” Billy said stupidly, his face felt weird and it takes a moment before he realised he was smiling, widely and helplessly, that bright smile that only came out rarely and Goodnight is smiling back equally dopily. Sam standing in between them and looking from one to the other, his eyebrows climbing higher and higher with each turn.

“Ok, I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with either of you but its subzero out here and I hear one half of Goody’s paltry doormroom bed calling my name so lets move it people.”

“Sure Sam,” Goody said unusually docile, wrapping an arm around Sam’s waist. “Onward!” Billy wraps his arm around Sam’s waist from the other side so his hand can rest on Goody’s elbow.

“Onward!” he agres cheerily. Sam looked unimpressed from one head to the other.

“Don’t know what the fucks wrong with either of you but let's go home anyway,” he said and Billy can feel Goodnight move his hand so it's loosely wrapped around Billy’s wrist, catching the thin skin between his glove and sleeves. Goody’s fingers feel cold and bony and absolutely, absolutely amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The " don't say straight, say gayly forward" comes again from Alison Bechdel's comics about coming out in college.
> 
> There is a coda or epilogue coming to this. At some point.


End file.
